


Duck Newton, Ghost Whisperer

by thegreatandpowerfultoaster



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Emetophobia, Everyone will be here at some point, Explicit Language, Horror, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, POV Second Person, Slow Burn, Which is a new thing but im liking it, ghost au, gratuitous references, like really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster
Summary: Kepler is a sleepy little town that gets the most traffic around the first snow of the season. The rest of the time, it's just a small town with about as much excitement as a guy like Duck can handle.Except apparently it's about to get more interesting, since Kepler's also a haven for the undead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways, New project and no promises and how long it will be or an update schedule! But also, please read the tags for warnings! I'm not going to warn you anymore than that, but this is supposed to be a little scary to start out with.

There's something in your apartment.

There's something in your apartment and it's so, so bad. It has to be, the way it's banging on the cupboards and screaming though the static on the TV that you really should have replaced by now.

You've tried to be brave after youyo gotten over the initial shock of having it here. "Hey, asshat!" You'd yelled and the doors stopped opening and shutting for a second. "I ain't wanna fuckin' hear it unless you're helpin' pay the rent, got it?"

Then the doors to back to slamming and the chains start to rattle, which is definitely new. So...that didn't work, but you don't think you're as terrified as you were before. Which isn't saying much since you aren't a brave person.

One morning, though after a long, long night of chains and static and doors slamming and screams, once you've hauled yourself out of bed and started coffee, you realize that it hasn't stopped.

 Well that's weird. And bad, since usually by the time you roll out of bed the only abnormal thing in your apartment is the cat, thinking that she needs more food when her bowl is, in fact, completely full. 

But it's still going. 

The TV switches itself back on, even though it's unplugged. It's been weeks since it started, though. You keep making coffee and start to work on the buttons of your uniform, which is still far too snug for comfort and you really oughta get your ass on that dieting and shit, like you've been meaning to.

The walls start oozing blood. 

Nevermind on the diet, you don't think you'll need to eat for a while. "Yep," you sigh at the not-as-empty as it should be room. "Fuck you too, I guess." 

The TV gets louder, and the white noise fades into something worse. Panic shoots down, freezing cold into your insides and leaves everything shaking. It's trying to talk, God. Is it trying to talk to you? It's never done that before. You've never wanted it to. 

Bloody walls seem to pulse, but at least you know Leo isn't gonna come over anytime soon to complain-you're the only one who's ever going to see it.

"Duck. Newton?" It's words, it's your name, made out of tinny snippets coming from the TV, pieced together like a ratty patchwork blanket. "Help."

"I can't help you!" Your voice comes out weak, exausted. Why can't this all just stop. You'd never had a problem with this apartment before! Why'd it have to just start?

 "Help," it says again. Over and over and over. "Help."

"Fine! Fine!" You've long since covered your ears but it does nothing to cancel our the noise. But isn't it coming from your TV? It doesn't have to make sense, right? None of this makes any fucking sense anyways . The noise quiets and the walls stop acting like they're made of flesh. Thank God.

Slowly you move to call in to work...it's fine. You've got vacation days aplenty. Except...Juno stops you. "Wait, are you sure you can't come in for an hour or so? We've got an unregistered RV around one of the campgrounds and uh...well, Duck you seem to be a little better at handling that than I am."

She's just jumpy since last time, Pigeon Wilson had almost shot her. The two were good friends now, but you suppose you can understand why she wants help. "Sure. Just give me an hour and I'll meet you out there."

"Thanks," she says. "Take care of yourself , Duck."

God, you're trying but you've found yourself in some weird shit that you don't dare tell anyone else about and maybe that's not even a possibility anymore.

You make exactly no headway in your hour. In fact, just like usual, the ghost-if that's what it is-is gone again, like it usually is by the time you first wake up. For a minute you're tempted to yell at it, but at least that means it won't try to cause problems for you when you've got to head out...probably.

Juno's tapping her foot slightly on the squishy dust turned mud outlining the place where the campground sits. The campground is entirely empty, except a Winnebago with dark tinted windows and scratched paint. It looks dilapidated and long, long abandoned.

"How long's it been out here?"

"A few weeks. Three-ish, maybe." Your brain doesn't even make the connection between that and your other problem, but your heart nearly stops in your chest, and you stumble backwards, and then surge forward a step, with no control on your own body. She quickly rushes over to you. "Shit, shit Duck! You okay there?"

You can barely manage a croak of, "Fine," but at least your heart beat has evened out some and you can move all of your limbs again. "I'm fine, let's just get this over with."

You make your ways slowly up to the Winnebago and you reach to knock on the door. "Uhh, park service?"

It opens , but there's no one at the doorway. Luckily that isn't the weirdest thing you've seen this week, so you're pretty quick to just walk in. 

Somehow between the doorway and the inside of the 'bago the temperature changes from _'a fall morning in West Virginia'_ to  _'the fuckin' eternal fires of hell'._

And then the moths fly out, through the doorway. There's dozens of them. Small ones, huge ones and everything in-between. Juno screams and you're quick to cover your face as best as you can, but it slides to a trickle within moments.

Juno looks a little off-color behind you and you're quick to turn around and place a hand on your friends shoulder. "Hey, hey! We're good, okay? There's no one in here, let's just impound the damn thing and get out of here, 'kay?"

She nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go. This place is weirdin' me out." 

You rush her out the door as fast as you're able, but the door pushes itself between you two and you are stuck in the inside, her on the outside. Juno starts pounding on the door, and she calls your name (the real one, once before she switches back to Duck. You'll get over it). 

The door won't open. And something behind you is getting louder quickly, although you're trying very hard to ignore it and break through a window over a cluttered table. 

Somethings pulling at you like a vacuum from deeper inside the Winnebago. It's not pulling physically but whatever's back there is pushing it's way into your head, and soon enough the window and the door aren't even a priority. 

Whatever is practically roaring behind you follows as you wander into the very back of the Winnebago and dig through a worn dresser until you find what you're looking for (what  _are_  you looking for?)

Theres something in your hand, and it's getting harder and harder to understand what it is. Your hands themselves...they aren't a problem anymore, at least. You can't feel them, and your legs are turning to gel just as quickly.

You don't remember when you had collapsed. You don't remember collapsing at all, so you had to have passed out at some point before that. Juno has stopped yelling outside and whatever had been following you is no longer around.

It's dificult, but not impossible to lug yourself to your feet. You stumble forward little by little, ignoring the new weight in your pocket pulling you back down. You get in front of the door again, and manage to tug it open with about as much resistance as it should have. 

Except you don't open the door to see the beautiful - _Your_  beautiful Monongahela.

It's so dark, the only lighting outside is an eerie red coming from far, far away. 

And you're maybe not as scared as you should be. Which isn't saying a lot, since this is shit-your-pants terrifying and you're almost there, but you're also a little bit annoyed.

Why you? You're just an average dude, and you shouldn't have to deal with this, or keep dealing with this supernatural trainwreck. You just kinda want to go back to bed, now. 

It's a bad idea, but you walk towards the light anyways, repeating your resolve.  _What's the worst that can happen?_

The light seems to be getting a little closer now.

_What's the worst that can happen?_

You hope Juno's doing alright.

_What's the worst that can happen?_

You'd always been happy to live in a boring town.

_What's the worst that can happen?_

No, wait. You're not getting closer to the light, you haven't gotten any farther from the Winnebago. It's getting closer to you.

_What's the worst that can-_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning to update so soon but here we are? Also, clever chapter titles are pending. This went from straight up horror to a sort of ghost whisperer au. Sorry.

Your head is screaming in pain, and when you move to open your eyes something isn't right. Everything looks sort of red until you blink it back, and you see Juno looking at you from above, looking more distressed than you'd seen her in your whole life.

"Fuck! I thought you were fucking dead there for a second, what the actual fuckin'-fuck!"

The high, familiar ceilings of the station are above you, and God, you wish you knew what happened between before and now. "Hey, Juno," you say quietly, blinking up at her, and moving to rub your head.

She gives you a look. "Uh...Yeah, Duck?"

"Can I have the rest of the day off now?"

"Fuck I...I guess? Do I need to take you to a hosptital?"

Surprisingly enough you think you're doing all right. Bruised up like an old banana? Maybe, but nothing seroius. You shake your head and just mention that fact that you've had a very long day already and would just like to go home now. She gives you another look but this time the ratio of worry to disbelief is a little lower.

She walks you out to your car, before asking again if you're alright. Come to think of it, you might actually have a concussion but you also need to get home and yell at a ghost. Obviously you're not going to say that, though.

"I saw that, right?" She asks through the window rolled down on the passengers side. "And you saw it too? I'm not crazy?"

You shake your head. "That was way too real, Juno and we both saw the way the door shut like that. What ah...happened after that?"

"Ran back to get bolt cutters the second I realized there was no way in there. Couldn't even break through the window, it didn't matter what I tried. I'd get the damn thing impounded now, but I don't think I wanna screw with whatever's happening there. I found you on the floor when I got back, door was open."

"I thought I was running out into the forest but...I dunno, there was something really weird about it. I'm not entirely sure it was just a 'I hit my head' thing. It felt way too real for any of that."

"There's something's creepy as fuck goin' on over there, Duck but I don't wanna get into it if we don't have to."

"Agreed," You say but you're already in too deep.

Of course the weirdness doesn't stop. The moment you're alone agin, driving home the radio turns on by itself, and you don't waste any energy on trying to turn it off. It won't turn off, and it's honestly not worth fighting a ghost over since you don't mind the song that's on anyways.

It shuts off as you turn your car off, and the door opens for you. Wow. Courteous.

And then you collapse, sitting onto the couch, laying on one of the arms casually and sighing because you're kind of just done. Someone sits beside you, and although you can't see them, it's obvious they're there by the way the couch dips in a little and the air changes. You sigh again. "Can we stop this, maybe? Just for a little bit? I think I need some actual alone time."

The ghost isn't interested in this suggestion, it seems.

Or....or personal space now, dear God. Freezing cold ripples through your body, and your spine seizes up. It all originates at your hip, right above your pocket.

It feels like a hand. And....And it's moving. It's reaching into your pocket...What's in there that it wants so badly?

The glasses that your picked up in the winnebago....They're floating in the air a little ways above the couch cushion, looking ridiculous and big, and red and...terrifying. They unfold.

What's so important about them? You remember faintly the way they'd tugged on you back there, making everything else seem irrelevant.

You've pushed yourself further against the arm of the couch, and your heart sounds hard against your ribcage. They shift again, and suddenly there's a man in your house who hadn't been there a second ago.

He holds a long, thin arm in front of his face and seems to inspect it. "Oh, lovely. I hadn't been sure that would still work, if I was being honest."

You just sit there, mouth hanging open. He offers you a wide grin. "Oh, apologies. You must be in a bit of shock after that. I'm certainly not here to harm you, if that helps you out at all."

It doesn't. " Uh... "

He takes another look at his arm before holding out his hand for you to shake. You honestly can't make yourself do it. He's your (Your? That's possesive, no pun intended) fuckin' ghost.

You both and up just awkwardly sitting there for a minute before he puts his hand down and stands from your couch. "Sorry, sorry. I'm certain this must all be rather upsetting and she would've liked to meet you first, and that may have been easier, I think. I'm Indrid Cold."

"Duck Newton?" You offer hesitantntly, like it might not actually be your name. Then he turns away from you, and just below his stark white hair, near the base of his neck is the bottom of an awful, awful wound. Looks like blunt trauma, but worse than most blunt trauma you've been unlucky enough to see.

"I know," he says, turning a little back towards you to offer another smile.

"I mean well-well everyone knows you, Ranger Newton. You're awfully important, in the grand scheme of things. Oh... but-" he flushes a little pink and you're pretty sure the TV flickers on again for a second. "I'm going too fast again, aren't I? Apologies, my brain works at a bit of a...different speed than anyone else's. Or so I have been told. I suspect you have questions. I'd be happy to answer them all, if I can."

Questions doesn't even begin to cover it, honestly and you don't even have an idea of where to start.

There was a lot to unpack, just in that last bit, even. You decide to start with the basics. "Am I goin' crazy? This is real, right? This whole month has been real? I guess you're not really the person to ask that, huh."

Indrid snorts lightly. That's sort of cute in of itself, not as terrifying as you might have imagined. "Yes, it's all been real, you're the picture of health, actually."

"Are you a ghost?"

"I suppose so. I haven't really been able to come up with anything better to call myself, but I don't like ghost much. Perhaps we could just stick with Indrid? Or Mr. Cold, if you're feeling a bit more formal than that. "

You nod. He says it all so lightly like it's a normal occurance.

Is it? You'd think it'd get around more if it was.

Indrid seems polite, at least but you're still a little angry about the previous haunting stuff. "Indrid, then. Why have you been hauntin' me? You coulda just been talkin' to me this entire time, right? "

His eyebrows knit together underneath the red lenses of the glasses, before pointing to them. "Well, this is...these are mine. I'm tied to them, sort of and it takes a lot of energy to interact with anything without them on. Thank you for getting them for me, but I'm awfully sorry it was such an ordeal. I've never took control of a living being before."

Forget the total invasion of your person, that meant that was Indrid's creepy-ass Winnebago out in the woods. Good lord, did that mean his body was still in there or something? Indrid cuts off your thoughts, like he knew what you were going to ask.

"Yes, that's mine. And to be fair, if you left your apartment for decades, it'd probably have collected dust too."

"Man," you say, shaking your head a little and trying to keep a light tone. "I've never seen so many moths in one place in my entire life, and that's not normal at all. I think between that and the bleedin' walls, we've got some shit to talk through."

He blinks at you few times and his ghostly (ha) pale skin becomes the slightest bit purple-y on his cheeks, like the color of the veins on your wrist. "Oh. Oh..that wasn't me."

"What?"

"That was...that was Minerva and we'd both like to talk to you about something. Something very important to well...a lot of things. To Kepler."

The TV clicks on again and the static starts and through the white nose you hear words pieced together, the way they were before. "Duck. Newton? Help."

"She's stuck, the way I was," says Indrid, wringing his hands as he watches the static. "But it's not exactly as simple as that. Have you heard of the Amnesty Lodge?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warnings have been updated!

"So what you're trying' to get across, is that I can see ghosts and no one else can."

"Well...well sort of?"

You're still sitting on the couch and while there is not a soul sitting on the opposite end of the couch to your knowledge, Indrid has still left a spot, so you guess Minerva might be around that area.

Indrid himself has settled in the middle of the couch, crossing his legs politely as he tries to explain your fucking destiny.

But here's the thing: You don't want a destiny. You just want to be Duck Newton, forest ranger and all around boring guy. And Indrid seems nice enough, really but he's not exactly giving you a way out here.

When he goes back to explaining, it's not this arms making all sorta of clumsy gestures, like he's just getting used to being able to see parts of himself again, and already you can tell it's gonna be hard for you to tell him no.

"You're just more naturally attuned to the afterlife than most people, really. That's the reason none of your neighbors complained about the noise or the," he spares a glance at the empty couch cushon. "The bleeding walls...? Don't you think that might've been a bit much?"

The empty cushion doesn't respond. You honestly wouldn't have been super surprised if it had by this point. Indrid shakes his head, though and turns back to you. "You can't see us any easier without aid, but we can manipulate things so that you can see it hear us. To anyone else, though it looks like nothing."

"Then how come Juno could see everything in the trailer?"

"She couldn't, she just saw the effects of the physical manipulation of objects. Which is much more difficult to do and I can really only do it in places I'm close to. Like, emotionally close." He's taken to wringing his hands at this point, but it doesn't really look like a nervous tic, it really does look like someone trying to get used to having a semi-physical form again. "I'm sorry if I scared her. I just needed my glasses so I could speak to you without using up too much energy."

"She'll be okay," you say. Your first instinct upon realizing that she saw some of that shit too is to call her and tell her everything, but something tells you that's not going to work out here somehow. "So I'm like closer to the veil or some shit."

"Not really, see-"

And he's speaking jargon again that you really don't understand any of, but it gives you plenty of time to just look the guy over. He's pretty short, and he has the absolute weirdest features.

If you hadn't gotten the slightest glimpse of the wound at the base of his neck, you'd think he'd starved to death. And his hair had to be dyed, right? No one who looked younger than you could possibly have that much white hair? It didn't look dyed, really but what did you know.

He's kind of hot, in a weird sort of way. In a trash sort of way. But he's also a ghost, fuck.

He's also been living in your house, trying to get your attention for who knows how long. And for what, though?

Some destiny you don't want?

"So, you'll help me get Minerva's artifact so that we can both show you what you need to do?"

Oh, you must've really spaced out there. But...but you're going to turn him down now. You'll set him on his way to do whatever the fuck ghosts are supposed to do once they have a physical sort of form again, and you'll just go back to how things were before this all started.

"Look," you say slowly, but before you can even get started on the why's and how's of the thing he cuts you off by holding up a hand.

"I know what you're going to say," his lilting voice tells you, as one of his hands moves his glasses to rest up on his forehead and you get to see his eyes.

Or...or lack of such.

There's just...holes. They're not even normal like...

And they're bleeding and God, that's freaking and you are very, very quick to look away. Indrid blinks, sort of, and rubs at his cheeks and puts his glasses back down. You can see his eyes behind his glasses now, flicking to your face and then downward. Like...like he fuckin' didn't have any fuckin' eyes and now he does.

You could probably vomit, but the part of you that's always desperate to be hospitable and polite (that anxiety that never has gone away) is absolutely not going to let yourself vomit in front of him.

"I don't...You're not...I don't think you're taking this quite as seriously as you should be, Duck. I do understand that it's a lot, but there is a lot at stake here if you try to turn me down. For both of us."

Everything inside you shifts uncomfortably again, but a whole different way this time. "Was that...was that a fuckin' threat?"

His hands fly up. "You're misunderstanding me. I don't want to hurt you. That is the absolute last thing on my mind, but...there are things in Kepler that would be happy to hurt you. They will try. And things are moving far faster than I could have predicted, and they're going to be here soon. They will destroy Kepler, if not more. No one else can stop them."

This has a gravity that's awful hard to picture. Something big is out there? Something dark and terrifying and scary and only you can stop it? Well, you're fucked. Everyone and everything is fucked, you guess.

And then you start to freak out a little bit. "Fuck, I...I..shit! Look, you've got the wrong guy. I'm...I'm just a normal dude, alright? I can't stop any big, foreboding thing. I can...like, you need to identify a tree? great, I'm your fucking man!"

Indrid tilts his head slightly and watches your full-on panic attack with an interest that infurates you, more than anything but you keep going. "You want...shit! You want to hear about a song that was written in the 1930s? You got me. But for somethin' like this? You're screwed, man. We're screwed."

"Are you finished?"

"I dunno yet," you practically yell. There's just silence for a moment as you watch your cat mosey in to the living room area and hop up on the opposite arm of the couch from you. You take in a few shakey breaths. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm done I think."

"Alright, thank you. May I start with the fact that I have the utmost faith in you?"

"Why?"

"I think..." Indrid smiles at the ground. " I think we ought to leave it at that today, Duck. It's...it's a lot to handle. I know it's a lot. I've been there, I have. How about this: You help with Minerva, we'll have another talk, and I'll leave you a way out. Okay?"

You doesn't know. But it can't...it can't hurt, right? "Sure. Sure, yeah, okay."

"Thank you. Thank you, Duck I can't possibly thank you enough. I'll come with you, of course but I need a few minutes, maybe. This is new and I've wasted a lot of energy today, between everything at the trailer and after."

"Sure uh...?" you make a wide sort of gesture like, 'Do whatever you need to, I guess?'

"Can I take the couch, maybe? I'd like to stay in this form because things are a bit easier, but if you want me to go, I will."

You are quick to shake your head. "You're fine just where you are. I'll be in the other room, if you need me. Sorry for freakin' out, I guess."

"No, I...Thank you, Duck. I mean it, really."

He probably shouldn't be thanking you yet. He probably shouldn't be thanking you at all.


	4. Chapter 4

There are a lot of questions you've still got. Probably more than you'd started out today with actually, but you're not super unhappy, given the circumstances. 

You should maybe be terrified. Whatever did that to Indrid wants you next? That's sure what it sounds like, and that's not especially thrilling, if you're being honest.

Terrified is feeling like a little too much work right now. Maybe a nap isn't such a bad idea. And lunch? Lunch might be good if you can manage it. Of course, you don't really know how long Indrid's gonna need to rest so maybe you won't have time. 

You fall asleep anyways. 

 

"Excuse me?" You hear. Well, kind of but you ignore it because you're warm and comfortable and yeah, it's your day off. "Um...Duck?"

Something falls and shatters nearby, and it shocks you out of your comfortable rest. "Shit!" You yell, sitting up as fast as your poor, tired body is able. Suddenly you don't know where you are and wow, who the hell is in your apartment?

Oh...oh shit. That's right, it's just Indrid. Well not  _just_  Indrid. That doesn't sound right. He obviously isn't  _just_  anything, but he's here now and for how long you don't know.

He looks...panicked which leaves you feeling sort of panicked being that there is apparently some evil looking force and man, what's got to happen to get a ghost nervous?

"I'm...I'm really very sorry, but I think I knocked something over in the living room when I was trying to wake you up because..."

Oh. So nothing serious. Not like the cat doesn't break shit all the time. You let out a long, long sigh. "Because?"

He's bright red. "Uh. I'm not quite used to having a physical form."

"You were in here, though? I'm pretty sure I heard you in here." You're an absolute shit liar, and while that has never exactly helped you it does mean that you're pretty good at picking out bad lies. Indrid looks nervous. Real, real nervous.

"Well I ah...maybe I sort of got excited about waking you up and lost a bit of control, you know? It really was an accident, though. Just you're...you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh. So this is like a...like some sort of prophecy thing? Is that why I don't get a way out?"

He at least has the decency to look sheepish. "It is, sort of. But I  _am_  leaving you a way out. Really, I only have your best interests in mind, it's just-"

"Bigger than just me," You finish, rubbing at your eyes like that might make this whole thing go away. " Yeah, I get it. I...You ready to go get that thing for Minerva or whatever?"

He nods. "Yes, but...I'll have to take off my glasses. The people where you're going know me...They'll likely not take kindly to my presence."

 

The Amnesty Lodge. You're headed to the Amnesty Lodge for some reason that you're not quite comfortable with at the moment. Maybe you'll manage to pick up lunch while you're there. You aren't sure what Indrid would think of that, but to be fair he can't really do anything until you give him back his glasses back.

The Amnesty lodge isn't quite a frequent haunt (haha) of yours, but you do go there for lunch often enough that you're not really wandering in blind.

You're there to get Minerva's...thing. Artifact. Whatever Indrid had called it before. It's a sword, which is sort of weird and you aren't sure why a ski lodge has a sword and you're even less sure how you're going to sneak it out of there. 

It's easy enough to walk in at least. And it's easy enough to just keep going until you've reached a mostly clear spot in the busy lodge space, and then you sort of just stop, and take a long glance around.

Hmm. You probably should have asked for where you should start looking. Or maybe you should just start with something you know. Like soup. And Barclay, who is the Lodge's cook and seemed like a nice guy whenever you've managed to strike up a conversation with him.

So you slowly make your way over towards the kitchen, and peek your head though the door. "Hey, Barclay! D'ya think I could come in for a sec?" You hear a yes called out from inside.

You notice a bit too late that he isn't alone. There's one Ned Chicane, leaning casually against a counter and drinking something, right across from Barclay, who's wisking something over the stove.

Ned Chicane...there's a lot to unpack there, and you can't quite disguise your frown when you see him, but he seems as exited and over the top as he ever was.

Come to think of it, when did Ned Chicane even come back into town? 

You've really been out of that sort of loop for a while, haven't you? No use dwelling on it now, as long as you aren't sitting down for dinner with him. 

"Barclay, I'm about to ask a real weird question, but could y'just roll with me on this one and I'll tell y'all about it later?"

"Uh...sure, Duck."

"Have you see....uh...is there a sword in here?"

That question gets about the reaction that you should have expected. A raised eyebrow, and the distinct sound of Ned choking on whatever he's drinking over there.

Alright, bad idea. Then again, there weren't any better options, really. Right? God, you hope you didn't skip over something that would 've been easier, because that would've been exactly like you.

"Duck, I don't-" Barclay stops wisking for long enough to glare at you. "What kind of question  _is_  that?"

You're quiet for what is probably way too long, but you're planning a story. 

"Shit, I...It's an heirloom and-no, wait, just a second. I was thinking about taking up fencing?"  _Ugh._ Ned's over there laughing. "Nah, look Barclay: I'm lying. It's just really important that I find it and I was told it was in the lodge, so if you could point me in the direction of anything that might help me?"

He shakes his head at the pot. "I dunno, Duck but I'm usually shut up in here all day. If anybody would know about that, it'd probably be with Aubrey or Mama. A sword, though?"

You give a shrug at the floor. "Yeah. Uh...like I said, I'm sure it'll be a fun story to tell later. is Mama around today?"

Ned's the one to cut in, which means you're forced to face the fact that yeah, the did still exists. "Nah, she's actually pretty busy talking to that government agent that showed up this morning. you heard about what happened last night, didn't you?"

An uncomfortable weight settles in the pit of your stomach, but you can't possibly imagine why. Actuallly, maybe you can but you really don't want to make that connection, so you try to put on a bit of an annoyed (maybe inconvenienced?) tone. 

"Nah, I've had the day off, so I haven't been around to listen to the gossip."

"Not just gossip! " Ned scoffs with his usually bravado. "There was a murder!"

Now, maybe murder isn't news in a lot of places, you honestly can't say for sure since you've been stuck in Kepler for your entire life and you figure you'll be here for the rest of it.

But in a tiny, small-knit place like Kepler? Murder's a lot. Murder is  _news_. But god, right now it's not seeming like a thing to buzz about for a month or two and then never mention again. 

It's like...It's like there's a government agent in town and a ghost probably somewhere in your vicinity, and you're asking after a fucking sword in a ski lodge and what happened to your life in the last three weeks or so?

"What the hell happened for a fed to show up?"

Barclay cuts back in, winding a little at the question. "Some kids went missing out in the woods. they...uh....They didn't both come back. Not in one piece anyways."

"God, that's awful."

"Yeah uh...no kidding. But Aubrey's probably out by the springs if you wanna talk to her about...about a sword?"

"I'll go talk to her. Thanks for that, Barclay," you nod. "And Ned."

You feel a slight tug on your shirt, and then a bigger one. To the best of your ability you follow the direction of the tug, into a darkened area, and dig the glasses out of your pocket. They unfold and Indrid sort of flickers into existence in front of you.

You swear because even if you'd been expecting it, it just isn't right. He quickly apologizes and fixes his crooked glasses. "Something isn't right here."

"No...Well, no shit! I'm still waiting for someone to tell me this is all a joke."

"Not exactly what I meant," he says dryly. "Have you met this Aubrey before?" You shake your head. "Then be careful. This...this place never had felt right to me, but right now it's more than that."  

You take a quick look out around the more crowded part of the lodge, but you can't feel anything strange about it. It's just warm and cozy like you'd come to eexpect. "I'm never not careful," you reply and that might be a bit of an overstatement, but that's fine, he doesn't need to know that. "Why don't you like this place? You could just come walking in with me, that'd help out a lot."

His mouth contorts into a frown. "I..I know these people, they know me. But that isn't even all of the problem. They hunt ghosts, Duck. And other...things like us."

"Oh," You say it awfully quiet again. " Oh. Well...Sorry, then. But I'll go talk to Aubrey. You sure you can't get a better job at it than  _'in the lodge's general vicinity'_?"

He shakes his head and gives you a quick, awkward pat on the back. "Nope. Apologies about that, but there really is no getting better than that. It's a bit of a finnicky art."

 

You sigh. Why has it been such a long day? 

There's two girls sitting the hotsprings. Well, one in the springs and one next to it, talking animatedly at the other. You cough a little to get their attention. "Is one of you Aubrey?"

The one who's not in the springs nods. "Yep, that's me! whatcha need?"

You suddenly get awfully nervous again. "Do you have...Have you seen a sword? I need it for-well, it isn't important what I need it for, I just need it."

The two girls give each other a look, and then Aubrey looks back up with you. "Yeah, take it! But no going back on it, you take it, you don't get to give it back. There is only so much I can handle."

Its that easy? Why is it that easy? Should you be worried?

 "C'mon," Aubrey says, practically hopping up. "Let's go get you Beacon."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder of the major character death warning at the top, there.

'Beacon', as expected is the sword. Well, kind of. It's a pretty weird looking sword. It's got a mouth and well...

It's talking, but that's neither here nor there, although it does a pretty good job explaining why Aubrey is so eager to let you have it.

"Ugh. Lovely," it says just as soon as you walk into the room. "Another useless human. What are you going to do with this one?"

"Oh," says Aubrey, putting a hand up at her chest and batting her eyelashes. "I'm not going to go anything! He's going with  _you_ , and I never, never have to see you or him again."

The sword doesn't have a face, and yet it's fuming. Practically vibrating with anger. You don't like this sword, and if you were wondering what sort of person Minerva was before then you're really fucking wondering now. 

What sort of person carries (uh carried?) A talking sword? Where do you even get a thing like that?

Nevertheless, it's coming with you. You wave awkwardly, despite Beacon's distinct lack of eyes. 

"Uh, hey there?"

There is a very, felt long sigh from the sword. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse to leave with this pathetic excuse of a-" it sort of harrumphs as Aubrey hands it to you, slamming the hilt into your palm, but it picks up the complaining pretty quickly. "Where are your people's warriors?! Where are-"

 Aubrey reaches out to shake your hand as Beacon rambles on in the background. "Good doing business with you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my spot in the springs."

"You're not even going to ask why I want it? I don't get to ask where you got it?"

She smiles, and shakes her head. "Nope. Not looking a gift-horse in the mouth and all that shit. Hook him on like a belt...Wait, you're not going to bring him back, right?"

You awkwardly rub the back of your neck. "Uh, no. I don't think that's going to be an option in this case."

"Great! See ya, whatever your name was! " 

You follow her out of her room and back outside where she disappears pretty quickly, and you pass Mama, and hope she doesn't see the ridiculous sword-belt you're wearing. She's followed by a tall man in a suit, and your best guess is that that's the federal agent Ned had mentioned. You offer her a small wave, and get a nod from Mama in return.

You've met her once or twice, but in all honesty you don't know all that much about her. She runs the lodge, and she grew up in Kepler, like you.

She's more than just a bit of an enigma, and you wonder if that's because she's secretly a host Hunter or whatever like Indrid had said. You really, really don't want to get yourself into all of this mess that Kepler is turning out to be.

And plausible deniability, right?

 

Big red glasses fish themselves out of your back pocket as you shut the front door, and you have to say that you do  _not_  like that, and you're definitely going to have a word or two with Indrid about what is appropriate and what is not.

"I'm glad Aubrey was so eager to get rid of it. Although...I think I see why."

"Yeah," you say, unhooking Beacon from where it is currently holding your pants up.  "No kidding. What now?"

He starts to wring his hands again and pace back and forth. "You wait. I'll get Minerva as fast as I'm able and then we can talk. She didn't leave long ago, she can't be far."

"How long should that take?"

You can't help it you're feeling a tiny little impatient. After all, who wouldn't want to get all of this over and done with? 

"I...I'm not sure. Not long. You can just set my glasses on the coffee table with Beacon and I'll be back before you know it."

You nod, and watch carefully as Indrid pulls off his glasses (you close your eyes at the part where the glasses aren't sitting in his nose and you can see...all of that mess again) and neatly fold and sit them neatly on the table in front of the couch.

You sit Beacon there too and try to ignore it's constant grumbling. There's a cool just of wind and a sudden sort of emptiness to the apartment all of the sudden.

And you should be happy that you're  _finally_  alone...but you're kind of not.

And so you sit on the couch, near the arm, and just sort of look at the place where Indrid had sat earlier, and you wait. And you fall asleep.

And you dream.

 

It's cold. It's freezing and dark and you're lost and you just want to go home now and you don't know why you thought this was a good idea. 

You call their name into the woods, and risk a glance through the thick trees. There's no reply. Damnit. 

It's useless, but you call it again, up into the canopy of leaves.

They aren't coming back.

Should you stay here? Should you start walking the direction you think might be back? Should you wait for them, even though you know it won't work?

There's something breathing behind you, now, and that really sours any plans that you'd been thinking of. It's sucking in deep breath after deep breath and snarling. Your heart is pounding in your ears, as you ready yourself and count to three.

It isn't a chase, really. You're caught in no time at all and you just wish you'd said something against this whole thing in the first place.

Your eyes burn first, and while you can't feel exactly what's happening through the adrenaline fading into white hot pain, you can definitely tell that those are not tears dropping from them, and in horror you realize what has happened already, and what is about to happen now.

 

You've never died before, even in a dream, so you can't exactly say what you were expecting.

 

Your eyes shoot open.

 

Indrid doesn't come back that night, but you don't worry much. He'll be back soon. Because he said he would and that's all you really need to know.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's thursday, lads!

It's almost a week later and you're fairly certain that Indrid is not coming back. 

Beacon (who will not shut up and you understand Aubrey's no takebacks rule) and his glasses have moved to your dresser, and you don't suppose you'll Be moving them for a long time.

You run to the lodge every day afterwords, partially for the good food, mostly for the gossip, and you manage to write off that horrible dream as just that, a dream despite the feeling of wrongness that you can't shake not matter how much you try to.

Things settle down again, and you're happy with that.

Right now you're waiting for Jane to call. It's been a while since either of you have talked, but it's going to be any minute now that she'll call and you're just awful happy to be able to do so.

The phone rings once, and then again and you practically dive off the couch to pull the landline off of its place and immediately start twisting the cord around your finger. 

"Hey!"

"Hi Janie," You're grinning, and your certain that it's evident even through the phone. You begin talking to her, ask how her week was and what she's been working on. 

And then she asks about your week, and you tell her same old same old, and conveniently leave out the fact that you'd think you had a mental breakdown last week if not for the artifacts proving that it was real, sitting in your dresser.

A lamp falls off the table behind you, and all your muscles seize up. For a moment your heart stops beating. "Uh...Can you hang on for just a second, Jane?"

" Sure? What was that? "

You don't answer. just drop the phone, pick up the lamp and rush into your bedroom. The glasses haven't moved an inch, neither has Beacon. "Ah, it's Duck Newton again. Have you finally decided to-"

"Shut up!" You hiss. Jane could probably hear him, and he couldn't possibly think of even a bad cover-up for that one. Surprisingly enough, Beacon is immediately quiet. Maybe it's due to the entire apartment rattling. 

"Hey!" you whisper. It doesn't stop so you yell. "Hey! Quit that, I know you know how to fuckin' talk!"

Unless...unless it isn't Indrid or Minerva. You hear the TV flip on in the other room and starts playing something. You run back in and grab the phone. "Hey, Jane? I've gotta call y'back okay?"

"Wait, what? What 's going on, I-"

You rush over to the TV. "What? Talk, what do you need?"

It flickers on and off, and the radio sitting on the kitchen windowsill turns on too. Suddenly they're working on tandem to talk, using a thousand different voices to tell you something.

"You....need to...help. Something...big....in the....woods."

"Who are you?"

It doesn't answer for a minute, and then the static breaks. "No...help."

"I can't if you don't tell me who you are," You tell it. You can't really help anyone, but it doesn't need to know that. There's something in the forest? Something big? Who is this?

"Can't..." It flickers on and off again. "Don't know...help...friend."

You want to sigh, but you cant. This is all starting again and that's absolutely wonderful. Great. Fantabulous. "Who's your friend?"

It takes the ghost a minute again. It's not as clear as it has been before, the name is pieced together from a few different words. "Hollis. Help....Hollis."

You don't know that name. In fact you're really, really out of your element here and you don't like it. "Okay," you say . "Alright. Can you follow me?"

You've gotten a good idea. A really good idea actually, that means you...it won't be your problem anymore, and whomever this is will be left in the hands of someone far, far more capable. 

"Yes," the radio answers. "Yes....Help. Now."

You grab your keys and open your door into the hall. "C'mon, okay? I've got someone who can help."

The radio flicks on and off and on and off again and it's kind of weirdly familiar and comfortable. The drive to the Amnesty Lodge is still too long, and your stomach is doing flips. How are you going to explain this one?

You rush into the kitchen, not bothering to ask to come in this time. A few pots that hang from the ceiling start to sway. "Barclay, I need to talk to Mama. Like...now. Right now."

"She's in her office, what do you ne-"

You're gone already, racing through the crowded lodge and opening the door to Mama's office and slamming into someone.

Someone being Aubrey. You both back up a little and you run at your head but get right back at it. She's pretty quick to recover too, though and she's blocking your entrance. "Oh...heeey, Duck. Whatcha doing here?"

"Aubrey I...I really can't do this right now. I need to talk to Mama. Like, now." She's still blocking your way. "This is a time sensitive issue...shit!"

"Oh? That important? Sounds imteresting."

You know what? Fine. Fine. "Yeah, why don't you come in and see, then just let me through please."

She actually moves and then comes in behind you, and Mama looks for too long at you both. You do sigh, this time. "Mama, I've got a problem, and feel free to tell me to fuck off or whatever it I need to look elsewhere, but I've got kind of a ghost problem."

The lights flicker in affirmation, and since Mama doesn't look phased in the slightest you assume you're in the right place (Or maybe she can't even see it? Maybe that was just a you thing?). Aubrey, on the other hand looks confused as hell.

"I'm very interested to hear where you learned that," She says, still looking at you as she pulls out a drawer on her desk and gets out something that looks like a calculator. "And even moreso how the actual fuck you're talking to one enough to bring it here. "

"It's a pretty long story."

"I'm sure that it is." She clicks the thing on and just watches it. The lights flicker again and again and again. "So what's keeping it here?"

"I...it said there was something in the forest? It said something about a..." You struggle to remember what it had told you. "It asked me to help someone named Hollis, I think. "

"You heard it. It talked to you?" You nod. "Well that's a whole 'nother problem, then. And we're wanna worry about that after you fix this, it's just...Hollis though. That sounds familiar. Aubrey? You heard of a Hollis before?"

"It sounds familiar," She offers with a shrug and suddenly you realize that no she is not taking this seriously and yes, you're stuck with her, and you're still stuck doing this.

"But not too familar," she finishes and gives you a shit-eating grin. "Hollis is the one they're saying killed Keith, Mama. I don't think anyone's going to be able to fix that mess."

You. You're apparently going to fix that mess. Fuck.


	7. Chapter 7

Aubrey claps her hands together as you watch the car flicker to life. "Alright, man here's the rundown, correct me if I'm wrong. There's ghosts, and one was talking to you, and it was probably talking about someone that they've detained for possibly murder."

You let out a long, long sigh and rub the back of your neck. "Yep. That's what it's sounding like to me, Aubrey. Maybe me or Mama can fill you in on the whole ghosts thing a little later, though?"

"Hey," she says. "I can be patient. Not like I just leaned something world shattering like there are actual ghosts or something. You just work at your own pace, Ranger."

The sarcasm is not lost on you, of course, but you ignore her and just focus on driving. 

"So you think they'll let us talk to Hollis?" The radio flickers. "I was talkin' to Aubrey, but thanks for the attempt there, man."

Aubrey looks at you like you're crazy. "I didn't see shit, were you talking to the ghost again?"

That gives you pause. Maybe this was a good time to figure out how all this worked. "Hey, man can you do that again?"

There's some hesitance, as if to say, ' _You said you weren't talking to me'_ , but after a minute the radio flickers to life again and says ' _There_.' Very, very clearly before shutting off. You turn to Aubrey, who's turned her attention out the window.

"And you didn't hear any of that?"

"What? I heard you talking again but nothing after that, no. If Mama hadn't believed you I'd be pretty sure you were crazy. I'm a little sure you're crazy but I  _know_  Mama and I know she wouldn't lead me on."

You tell her I'm just as a sarcastic voice as she had used earlier that you're very grateful for her trust. She snorts.

But that means that, (if going by what Indrid had told you before is anything to go off of) it really isn't the physical manipulation of the radio, just something like the Ghost trying to make you hear. Shit. That's kind of creepy.

Who's to stop the ones you don't want to hear from, then? And no one would believe you, either. You could hear voices and not a single other person would know, you'd get institutionalized or some shit and even then nothing would stop it, you-

"Duck? You cool?"

Honestly you didn't even notice how tightly you'd been holding yourself until you try to appear a bit more relaxed. "Uh yeah," your voice breaks just then but you don't care. "Great."

She doesn't look convinced, but you still don't care. You ask her to take her your radio out of the glove box as you pull up.

It's not especially hard to convince Dewey to let you back there. You spout off something about how it happened in your forest, and Aubrey follows it with a little pout and a bit about how she and Hollis have always been friends, and that she just wants to see them.

And it works, somehow and Dewey let's you both back there. Maybe it's just been a slow day, or maybe it's just because Dewey isn't a bad guy and Sheriff Owens is out. 

Hollis is back there, sitting with their hands on their head. They look tired...and not really what you'd expect a murderer to look like. Then again, you doubt you'd have been led here to let a ghost convene with their murderer.

"Hey, Hollis," says Aubrey, taking a few steps forward. "We needed to talk to you."

They look up, eyes darting from Aubrey to you and then back again. "Aubrey, you aren't...I can't tell you anything else. I told them everything before. "

"Uh..."

And then Hollis looks back at you. "You're that forest ranger. The one Jake was telling me about."

That isn't a great thing since Jake knows you primarily as the dude who's lived in Kepler his entire life but can't even look at a pair of skis without falling over. "Yeah. That's not...I mean, that's kind of why we're here. Did y'see something in the woods? Somethin' big?"

Their eyes darken. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Trust me, I'm endin' up believin' a lot of things," You say and next to you Aubrey nods solemnly. "I just wanna help you."

"Yeah," They say after a minuite. "Well, I didn't see anything really, but I just felt sucking. Like...like some big vacuum, and I couldn't even feel my legs. And then it was gone and...Well, I'm sure you can read the police reports if you haven't already."

Like...sort of like what had happened at Indrids camper? Like when he'd tried to get you to grab his glasses? "Okay," you breath out heavily and kind of sharply but you store that information away to let mama know later. "I...someone wanted me to talk to you. To get y'out of here, I think. I'm not sure I can. But I can talk to them for you."

"What? " Hollis says and digs their hands into their pockets. "What does that mean, even?"

You gesture at Aubrey vaugly and she hands you the radio, and you move to turn it on. It turns on by itself and the static starts.

But then the radio shuts off again and the lights in the station go dark.


	8. Chapter 8

_Kepler, WV Circa 1982_

You remember that day well. It was sunny outside and the slopes were more filled than they had been for the last week or so, now that is finally acceptable weather. You're not nervous anymore, to be around so many people. Well, you are, but the people just in this little part of the lodge don't scare you. 

Mike's been teaching Moira to play piano, since she'd joined up she'd really wanted him to teach her and Mike is talented in more ways than just with a shotgun full of salt and an EMF meter. She's getting good too, and he says she's got a or of natural aptitude for it.

Everyone's talking and laughing above the music, and the usually not-so-bold Barclay has grabbed Madeline's hand and they're dancing. 

You didn't know either of them could dance, but there they were right in front of you, doing so. You turn your attention away from them and watch Mike and Moira lean a bit closer to each other. Thacker leans over. "You think they'll ever realize that they like each other, Indrid?"

You end up snorting and shaking your head. "Nope. Mike thinks he's got more important things to worry about and Moira is far too shy."

Looking back, that day hadn't mattered in the grand scheme of things. Hadn't served as anything but a painful reminder of all the days after it. The losing people over and over. The day you lost Mike to not anything any of you could have stopped.

Natural causes, they'd said and to this day you'd doubted it but since you hadn't ever seen him again you'd all assumed it has to be right. 

And then when Thacker died...That was something else. You're so  _sure_  you could have fixed that if you'd only tried  _harder_ , did something different, but you hadn't and you couldn't fix it. And it  _hurt_.

It wasn't like that bright sunny day at the lodge or the days you'd all spent together, helping people all over until your all settled down in Kepler, yours and Mad- _Mama's, now_  hometown. It was dark and cold and you were all so sure that this was a spirit.

But...well, it was but also it had been like nothing you'd ever seen. It had cornered you and Thacker away from the others and you only had to keep it busy until Thacker could get it but... And it was like you weren't thinking, couldn't move.

And when you saw Thacker again he was lifeless at your feet. Pale and grey and covered in long purple marks, his eyes completely  _gone_. 

You recall how your hands had shook and how Barclay had ushered you away and suites you that it was not your fault, but your eyes still watered as you left and let the others take care of what needed to be done. It wasn't as though it hadn't happened before.

Just....just it was your fault this time.

And you could have stopped it if you only could've moved before it had got to him.

 

You sit with your eyes downward at the desk in Mama's office. 

"Indrid," she says. "I can see you crying through those damned atrocious glasses. We can't let this stop us. Thacker knew the risks. Not like we don't miss him but we really don't have time for this. Whatever for him is still out there and it's our responsibility to get it before it hurts anyone else, alright?"

_She's so much stronger than you are._

You nod wordlessly, but you don't manage to wipe away the tears before they reach below your glasses. Barclay pats your back and guides you to the kitchen and gets you some hot chocolate with a lot of extra mix dumped in. 

Mama won't let you work anymore, and you're stuck as for what to do then. You don't know what Barclay said to her, either but it isn't helped any.

Before you were sad and mopey but you had been almost ready to act....now you're just sad and pacing and hopeless and not sure what to do with your hands.

It gets worse. And worse and worse and most days you don't even leave your Winnebago now, just sit inside and draw and tried to think of how you could have fixed things.

They never catch what had killed Thacker anyways. That doesn't hit you like you'd thought it would.

You're not as sad, anymore. Well, you are but it's countered by not feeling much of anything. Not caring. Not caring what happens to yourself, mostly.

Since you can't fix anything, what does it matter? You couldn't help then, and you can't help now. You don't want to go back and help, but you're far from content.

For a while you consider doing something that might be rash. Irreversible...except then you just end up in the hospital and neither Mama not Barclay will leave your side for anything. They take turns sleeping in the chair next to you.

Now you're really not getting back on the team.

When you're finally out of the hospital they try to make you stay at the lodge. You won't, but you've been feeling better enough lately to promise then you won't do anything again. 

It's hard to decide whether that helps or hurts your case, but it's the first any one of you had mentioned the incident in question, and you might call it a step forward.

So you go home and pace some more and just when things are looking hopeless and altogether awful again you start to have dreams.

They don't feel like dreams, actually but your terrified to think you might be having visions, and even more terrified to think that your sanity had gone that far down the drain. You have two very distinct types of dreams.

A lovely woman, broad shoulders and covered in all sorts of fascinating markings is speaking to you in a forest.

The first few times it happens it is all gibberish that you can't hope to make sense of- it seems like she's speaking an entirely different language than you are.

But... It's a matter of listening harder, it seems and things become more clear every time you have the dream.

"You're waiting!" She booms and my, if she isn't a proud looking woman. "You're waiting for the Chosen! As am I dear friend!"

"Well then," you say as soon as you learn how to speak, but the words out of your mouth are not your own, not yet at least. "Let's wait for him together, shall we?"

She nods happilly, and holds out her hand to you. "You are a good friend to wait with me for him. It will be some time, you know."

"I know," You tell her. Who is this Chosen any why do you both want to wait for him? "Will you tell me about him?"

The dream ends. You still know nothing, but it's something and it's enough to keep you going. She tells you more, but that's closer to the end. Or is it the beginning?

The other dreams are different. It's all flashes of darkness, and blood and silver and somehow you know that there are real people behind these dreams who are being ripped apart the ways you are. You  _yearn_  to stop it, but the memory of standing powerless as Thacker was sucked into the cold grey corpse you'd last seen him as haunts you.

So you do nothing.

And you'd tell Mama or Barclay or  _someone_  about this but you know it wouldn't help.

It only gets worse from there. You start writing letters. To yourself? You don't know. Maybe to the Chosen, whoever this man will be. You aren't trying to remember anything...it's all burned into your brain anyways.

These letters go under the sink so you don't have to look at them again. Things keep going. You think you're doing a little better. You have a purpose, even if you're not certain what it is yet.

And then, one dark night, you put your glasses into their drawer and begin to pile up the covers upon your bed before the temperature drops to... _why it has to be below zero._  The blankets won't be of any help, but you don't Intend on sleeping now, anyways.

Because this is not a normal chill. This is unnatural, like the thing currently in your house. 

You're lucky to make it into the kitchen area, teeth chattering together as you throw everything out of place in a search for salt. You're quick to make a border that shouldn't be crossable to any spirit before the wind blows through an opening that isn't there and you feel it's presence. Something big.

And you recall the woman in the woods, holding out her hand to you.

And you again see the things you'd saw in your visions....nothing you do is stopping this thing.

And you see a pair of eyes belonging to a man you've never met before, a man who you won't even meet for years.

And then you feel the rush of your soul leaving your body behind and pain so harsh that that it numbs you, and you have the thought that death should be kinder than this.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone forgot what day it was!
> 
> ...it was me. Here's your chapter.

It's pretty obvious this time that you aren't the only one seeing it this since you can hear someone (likely Deputy Dewey) banging on the door, Aubrey looking around like she expects to see something, and Hollis has clearly made a decision as whether to fight or flight with the way they've stood up and squared their shoulders and tried to look intimidating.

But...They definitely can't hear the beginnings of faint voices. They can't feel something start to pull at them in a not at all gentle or pleasant way.

If you'd thought that with Indrid the ghost shit had been rough, you had really no idea what they were (apparently) capable of. You'd relive that again a billion times if it would stop the way you feel your fingers begin to flex on their own or the sudden loss of control in you legs.

Or the way whatever this is clearly wants to hurt you. It wants to hurt you just as much as you want to get away from it, and that isn't saying anything good.

As the voices begin to get louder you start feeling something like your bones shifting underneath your skin and it isn't right, but you're not doing this and you're not in contol-

And it stops abruptly, and nothing hurts anymore, but things don't exactly feel right, either. You hadn't even realized your eyes were still squeezed shut, until you'd opened them to see that you were not in the police station anymore. 

You're standing in a big, open field with a beautiful sky up above you with those big, puffy clouds that don't come along often enough.

The sun is warm around you and theres golden grain swaying gently around your feet. It would be picturesque, peaceful, perfect if not for two things.

One is you. There is still something wrong, although you can't quite figure as to what. You don't feel like you're all there. It's not that you feel any physically different or that you feel hazy or anything, but something is missing even if you can't pinpoint it.

Two is the girl in the white dress standing in the field. She can't be any older than Aubrey is, or at least you don't think so. But... But she's dead. And you've never said that with such certainty. Half her face is more or less gone, beaten to a bloody pulp. Her other eye is like...

It's like Indrid's was, when he'd taken off his glasses and it's bleeding.

A lot. It's bleeding a lot and you don't really want to look at it but you can't help staring. Her eye (on the non-smashed side) is entirely gone and slowly the blood drips from her eye down onto her otherwise pristine white dress, falling like rain from a rooftop. one

_Drip, drip, drip._

You can hear it so acutely even though she's standing probably two yards away from you. The sound rings in your ears and fills up your mind and your head pounds.

"Hello?" The girl says. She's looking right through you, or maybe just to the side. Not at you, that's for certain. "Hello? Duck?"

Your name. Shit, that's  _your_  name. You don't know why that's such a revelation, either. At least a little of that missing feeling is back as soon as you acknowledge that it is in fact your name and no one else's.

"Duck?" She says again and reaches forward. "We only want to help."

You aren't understanding a fucking word of what she's saying to you. What does that even mean? "Great," you say and kind of nod and what the hell are you doing right now. "Where's Indrid? Where's Minerva?"

"No," she sounds a little angry and the sound of blood echoes in your ears. "They don't want to help you. We want to help you. Help us. Come to us."

"I can't," you shake your head quickly and stumble back. She takes a quick step forward and fuck, if that isn't creepy. You throw your hands up. It really doesn't help, being that you aren't sure she can see it. "I don't know how to help you people! In fact, y'all should probably find someone else to help you."

She says no again, this time definitely mad, if you're judging from the screech she gives out.

Terrifing. it's an absolutely bone shattering scream and you fall to the ground like the brave hero that you have always known yourself to be. 

She approaches you and quickly. At least up close you can see the weird scratches she has in her arms and neck. 

Well, not scratches really but long purple marks and you don't really have time to think about anything other than that before she digs her long fingers deep, deep into your skull through your eyes and oh lord, oh lord why can't this have happened to anyone but you? 

The screeching and the surrounding area fades into Aubrey screaming your name, and a sideways police station. Both Aubrey and Dewey are standing over you. And god, behind your eyes feels like you'd just woken up after partying like you had just turned eighteen, again.

At least it's over. W _ell_ , you hope it's over but you thought it was maybe over a week ago so you're not really holding out hope anymore and that panic sets back in again. 

"Shit," you repeat it over and over like a mantra but it doesn't make anything better in any way.

"What the hell just happened, Duck?" Dewey asks far too loudly.

You're just about to launch into the most absurd lie when Aubrey decides its her turn to talk. "Sorry, Deputy I locked the door since I wasn't thinking about it and then Duck had a fainting thing! We're going to make him go to the doctor, it sometimes just happens when he hasn't eaten. So like blood sugar issues and stuff."

"And the lights?" He sounds suspicious, and although you know he has every right to be you still think Aubrey's doing a pretty good job. Better than anything you would've come up with, anyhow.

She offers a little shrug. "Power surge? What, you don't get those here?"

"We do, just usually not for a full two minutes when everyone else's power is just fine, Ms. Little."

You hear her mutter something under her breath about not rolling well but she picks right back up with a reassuring smile and a tug at your hand. "It happens! Gosh, Deputy don't be so suspicious. Look, I've really got to go and take Duck to get something to eat before that mess happens again."

He lets them leave with no further protest, which is great. Awesome. Aubrey throws you your radio as soon as you can stand up.

"Let's go," she says as soon as you're finally out the door, Dewey watching you from one of the windows like a hawk. "The Cryptonomica."

"Why?" you ask. You're pretty side-by-side nah you know everything mess for in there is all bull. He's even knows it. You don't especially want to see or talk to Ned antways.

She gives you an annoyed look. "Because I'm not doing this by myself."

"I'm-"

"You're a wimp," she counters quickly. "You're a huge wimp so we're going to make Ned be our muscle."

You don't think muscle will help you very much as far as ghosts are involved but you hand her your keys anyways and set your head on the globe box. He's going  to get involved in it one ways or another-maybe he is already with how my time he spends at the lodge. 

In any case, the only reason you're not arguing is because your head hurts so bad and you don't want to be stuck in the car for too long.

"I saw something. It was screaming at me and then it attacked me. I don't really know what it wanted but it like...it actually hurt me, Aubrey." 

And because it could, you weren't really sure how many people you wanted to get in on this but it was far past the out of your hands stage by now.

"You fainted and hit your head pretty hard, could that be it? Aw, shit I should checked for a concussion or something. I don't even know how to do that. Do you think Ned does?"

"I'm sure he doesn't but I'll call a doctor or something."

"Like shit you will!" Her enthusiasm surprises you. "We're fucking ghost hunters now, we don't need to be interrogated! Ned will know how to  check for a concussion, and then we'll go back to the lodge and tell Mama what happened."

At least you know she's serious about it this time.


	10. Chapter 10

You're ready to vomit by the time your reach the Cryptonomica. Not that Aubrey's a bad driver, just the pounding between your eyes has gotten so bad that other things are starting to hurt, too.

Good thing right through the doors there's a garbage can. You hear Aubrey complaining behind you but you really couldn't stop if you'd wanted to.

Someone puts their large hand on your shoulder but you can't even stop for who knows how long  _after_  you register that. 

And Ned and Aubrey are talking now, something about how it's good that they'd just closed up shop early today or else you would've drive away customers. You shoot Ned a look from where you're currently kneeling but there's no fire behind it, you're far too tired for any of that already today.

"Bathroom?" You say. It only takes that much and Ned points you towards the back of the place. 

The lights flicker on and off as you make a good attempt at washing your mouth out, but you make no move to try to figure out if it's a ghost or the Cryptonomica's electricity problems.

When you get out you see Aubrey leaning against a statue of Bigfoot and gesturing wildly while Ned looks thoughtfully onward. You wonder how much of a mess she's already made of the situation, mostly because when you walk over she's talking about what had happened at the station.

"And so there was something, and it could hurt him! Or like, it did in the dream and then he just threw up and stuff. Isn't that wild? But I think it's all true. And so-"

"Doing better?" asks Ned. "You sound like you've had quite the day."

"Yep. That's one way or putting it, isn't it? I'm surprised that you seem to believe me."

He scoffs loudly and throws an arm over your shoulder. "Friend Duck, you are well aware that I have always been a believer in the supernatural-" You make a small, noncommittal noise since that had in fact had never, ever been the case. Or maybe it had, but you weren't going to read too deep into it.

"-And especially if it will turn me a profit."

Made sense. 

 _Fine_. 

Fine you could work with that, if he'd was just helping for money and Aubrey was actually trying. "Alright, so you'll help us?"

"Of course, or course! I was wondering, though how much I'd have to pay you per hour to just stand in the shop and attract some ghosts."

"Only  _I_  can see it half the time anyways," You counter. "But if anything comes up, you'll be the first call I make, I'm sure."

He seems to accept that at least, nodding solemnly. "I appreciate that, very much. What exactly do you need help with?"

"Those ghosts obviously didn't want the other one to be talkin' to Hollis. So really I need to get Mama more in on this than she wanted to be before we do anythin' else cause I don't know what level of bad this is goin' to get."

Aubrey and bed both sort of his at you. "Sure," says Ned. "We closed up early today anyway, I already sent Kirby away. Might I just say that I am absolutely thrilled to see-"

"Not see."

"Right, pardon. I am absolutely thrilled to  _not_  see what will happen here."

And then Aubrey makes him check you for a concussion and you try  not to meet his eyes the whole time but damn if it isn't hard.

And so that settles that, even if you aren't all that happy about it. You don't worry about the Ned part of this problem, and you have to keep reminding yourself about that but it seems to be working. 

Ned drives back since you're honestly still not feeling all that great, even if you don't think you're going to be throwing up again.

Mama is in the middle of the hall, next to Dani and Barclay and none of them look especially happy. "Alright," she says. "What happened?"

You run at the back of your neck and frown. "Well, uh... it's not looking too great, honestly."

Her eyes narrow and she seems to be a lot taller and more intimidating than she usually is. "Duck Newton, if you've fucked something else up, do you know who has to deal with it? Not you, it's  _me_ , so so help me if-"

"It wasn't his fault!" Aubrey says, sort of leaning in front of you. "I mean, no one could do anything about the passing out, and I think I got Dewey off our backs, and Hollis is still wrongfully imprisoned or whatever but that's...none of that is on Duck. And I think we deserve a...a something. An explanation? " You nod. "Yeah, that's what I meant. An explanation."

It's then that Mama sees Ned behind both you and Aubrey and also that moment you figure you aren't getting an explanation from her. She turns around and swears. "I swear, Ned Fuckin' Chicane I don't f-"

Barclay puts his hand on her shoulder and whispers something to her. Dani nods, and Mama turns around walks to her office and slams the door behind her.

Barclay takes a good long look at all of you, standing there wide eyed and somewhat worried. Well, at least you are. You'd imagine Ned behind you is looking as Suave and confident as ever and Aubrey mostly just looks confused. 

With good reason. 

You're pretty confused too, actually about what that was all about. "How about you three come downstairs!" Says Dani, stepping forward and taking Aubrey by the arm. "And Barclay and I can try to make things a little clearer for you."


	11. Chapter 11

Downstairs is uncomfortable, to say the least. 

It's overly warm, much like Indrid's Winnebago had been, and you're pretty sure you just had to step over a salt line to get in here. 

Which is telling you some things, actually and it's more or less who all is involved in the lodge's ghost hunting or whatever it is.

It's not a place in disarray by any means but it is cluttered, with a big table and bookshelves and a very old looking computer and a number of other things you don't take any time to look at. 

Everyone sits down at the big table, and you notice that Ned has shedded his sweater already and even Aubrey in her sleeveless vest, shorts and fishnets looks sort of uncomfortable. 

You can't really blame either of them, it is fucking hot in here and you're fairly certain that's not the anxiety talking, at least not entirely.

Barclay leans forward. "Maybe it would be best to start with what you all know, and how you know it? Duck, Mama said that you were the one to bring in the ah...the situation."

"Uh, sure. See, it started in my apartment maybe like a month ago? At first I thought maybe I wasn't getting enough sleep, but after I ruled out that it was kind of just like a feeling that something was there, you know?"

Thankfully Barclay nods. "That's actually when we started picking up more activity over here, that makes sense. What was it?"

So you keep going, and the moment you say Indrid's name you see something change in Barclay's expression. 

"You know him," You say. It isn't a question, you're absolutely certain by this point, and you might be feeling a little defensive by this point. "Did you hurt him?"

Barclay shakes his head. "No. I mean, I...It's a difficult situation, Duck. We worked together for a long time. But...but it sounds like maybe we're were wrong about what happened to him. But you haven't seen him since he went to find this...Minerva?" You shake your head. "Okay, alright. Well, he'll be back but time passes differently for them, as far as we can tell."

You ask Barclay where he went, then if time passes differently since he's said Minerva wasn't far. far

Dani is the one who answers, playing with her necklace and looking awfully calm. "There's two spirit words. well, actually they're kind of like inbetweens. They're where the spirit stays before it moves on, and there's a good place and a bad place. No one knows what they look like or anything but we've managed to talk to enough of them to get a good idea that they're actually places.

"Some stay here because of family and things like that. Others are angry and are harder to reason with. Those are the ones we usually deal with."

Dani takes a good long look at you and then turns to Barclay. "He's not lying about seeing them. You've heard him try to lie." Not funny. True, but not funny. "And Indrid had to stay for some reason, and they never met, did they? "

Barclay shrugs. "I mean, Duck, you came through a few times for lunch and stuff as a teenager, but Indrid was gone by then, and even if he wasn't it wasn't like he would've sought you out. He always kept to himelf. I-God, I feel so bad about all of that," He puts his hands on his head. "I've got to apologize, but it's not going to be easy. Mama and I just brushed him off at first and then thought he'd be fine and... "

"We've got...we've got some books on all this stuff if you want to read up, but we haven't heard of a ghost hurting someone like that before, or a chosen one, so I need to go talk to Mama. Can I stop by once I've talked to her?"

"Sure. Just make sure you talk to us when you find something out. I don't...I don't want to do this alone."

You don't want to do this at all, but you're not going to say that. 

Not going to tell someone who apparently has hinted ghosts for forever just what you think of their chosen profession.

"Can I come back?" You ask. "I just...My head hurts and I want to go gome." And wait for Indrid to come back.

Barclay nods. "Yeah, don't feel bad about it, just come back whenever you have time, alright Duck? Look, I'll even send some food with you, I've got French onion soup upstairs and as long as Stern hasn't decided to hold up in the kitchen again-"

"That agent's got a thing for you," Ned chuckles. "I think I'll stay here and take a look around."

"Me too," Says Aubrey before looking at the size of the library in this room. "Actually no, I'm not reading shit, Dani tell me about your ghost hunting endeavors, please!"

Dani grins. "Yeah, sure since I guess you're part of the team now, too! Let's go upstairs!"

You faceplant on your nice soft bed after another vomiting session and can't bother to get up to shove Beacon in a sock drawer when he starts talking. "Another useless day, in which I am nothing but a paperweight. ThIs is not what I was made for, I was-"

It's easier than it has ever been to just fall asleep to the droning of the sword. 

You don't know how long you manage to sleep, but when you wake up you're greeted by a cold hand on your shoulder, and the gentle whispering of your name in your ear.

You roll over, you find yourself nearly a to eye with a pair of bright red glasses and long eyelashes fluttering beneath the near-opaque lenses. "You're awake! I was hoping you would be. I wasn't gone for too long, was I?"


	12. Chapter 12

You yell. At nothing in particular, just he's cold as fuck. And then a woman bursts into your room holding a sword and you notice that Beacon is no longer in your dresser and instead in her hand. She seems overjoyed to say the least and throws both of her arms in the air excitedly. "Duck Newton! It is lovely to see you, to be able to communicate in this manner!"

Ah. That must be Minerva. you put a hand on Indrid's, to which he shrinks back, and you apologize, once for the yelling and once for the invasion of personal space. "Uh, hey. Yeah, actually you've both been gone for a week so excuse my suprise, maybe."

"A week?" Says Indrid skeptically. "That was two hours at the most."

You glare right back. "What year is it," You ask him. He looks puzzled, maybe counting in his head as Minerva yells, "Sixteen-oh-three, by my count!" From the doorway and you sigh.

"Nineteen ninety four?" 

"Two thousand nineteen," You say. Geez, time really does pass differently. You try to ignore he look of Abject horror forming behind his glasses. "But uh...good guess."

Minerva on the other hand, (who had died in Lord knows when if she thought it was the early sixteen hundreds) doesn't seem all that phased. Or maybe she was joking? It is  _very_  hard to tell. 

"Excellent. I did not believe that we would make it so long. Duck Newton, do you know of your destiny?"

You rush up to grab the glasses and ibuprofen Indrid had dropped before he recovers and tries to help. "Yup," you say from the ground, checking the glass for any cracks. "But I don't really want a destiny."

It's no use. It's no use anymore arguing but damn if you aren't going to try. It's a last sort of ditch effort to make things go back to normal, but you've got no faith in it.

"Why, Duck Newton, I do understand that these things aren't for everyone, but you aren't just  _everyone_. This Destiny is...well, there's nothing else to it, really. It's every imprtant, and it's only yours!"

What's her obsession with your full name? It's not...not bad it's just weird. Like she's addressing someone worthwhile, or at least she thinks that she is.

They both follow as you take the now dirty glass to the sink and put the ibuprofen in the garbage and turn to search for more. "Here's the thing. I'm really not anyone, Minerva. I can't..." This is feeling awfully close to another breakdown. "I can't help anyone. I can barely take care of myself some days and I'm forty-fuckin'-five. you've got a sword and Indrid's got more expertise than I can even imagine. I can't do anything you two can't."

 "You can," says Indrid and he smiles at you wider than should even be possible. It still serves to soothe you, somehow. "You can, I  _know_  you can! It is very hard to believe it and I understand that but there is a prophecy, Duck! You're supposed to do this!  _Please_."

"I can't!" You slam your hands down on the counter and the glass falls over in the sink. "I quit! Don't you get it?! I can't do this, alright? There's no amount of Destiny or shit that could be worth dying over!"

It's not a full on snap, but when you turn around Minerva's expression has turned to one of anger and her hand on Beacon has most certainly tightened.

Indrid looks sad, and you can't do anything about that but your heart still wrenches. You take a long, long sigh and your head hits the counter.

"I just...I don't think any of this is worth dying over. I don't want to die."

It's self-preservation, that's what it is. Stupid self-preservation that's always made its way to the forefront of everything, including turning down stupid things you didn't want to do and asking to be in work late a night or two a week and everything up until this point and you hate it, but it's so much better than the alternative this time.

And even if you were to change your mind, the damage is done. Minerva turns to the table and throws a vase at the wall. Indrid just sort of stands there as she approaches you, puffed up like an angry porcupine. 

It shouldn't be scary anymore but she is incredibly intimidating, between her size and maybe the  _grinning sword_  she's holding and just the fire in her eyes.

And you step back. Beacon's probably laughing at you, it's hard to tell behind your heart pounding. 

"You do not have a choice, Duck Newton. You will perform the act your fate requires of you, or else there will be nothing left to save. Do you understand? I will strike you down Duck Newton. There will not be another, but it is a risk I am willing to take if you choose not to cooporate."

She's bluffing, and you  _know_  that she's bluffing but it is still absolutely fucking terrifying and for some reason you must believe her enough to nod slowly. "Fine!" You force it out and try to not think about what you're agreeing to. 

Time to get your ass in gear and finish whatever tasks have been layed out for you, then.

Neither seem less tense after that and you have to get past the snickering Beacon and still furious Minerva to get the broom to sweep up that vase that had been thrown.

You wanted to get home before, desperately, but now it is definitely time to go.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Duck Newton, Ghost Whisperer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633009) by [thegreatandpowerfultoaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster)




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